


Coming up next: bad news

by henriqua



Series: STAINED SOULS [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Physical Abuse, Suicide Attempt, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 06:13:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10211336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henriqua/pseuds/henriqua
Summary: The one about Kei,Tadashi,fire,glass bottles,bruises,tears (both silent and loud),bad thoughts,and a savior.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For those who might be reading this because they liked Awkward Sun and the sunshine and happiness in it: this is far from it, as you might have noticed if you read the tags. This, and the other pieces in this series, are not happy stories. They might be triggering, they are sad and the topics in them are painful.
> 
> This has been a warning, because I know the topics can be upsetting or make some uncomfortable. Please, if mentions of suicide, physical abuse and/or blood make you uncomfortable - this isn't for you.
> 
> Now that we got that settled: I'm stoked to start this new series I've been planning and writing for so, so long! This first piece means very much to me, and I'm excited and nervous to let you all read it!<3

”I'd rather kill myself than grow old in a world like this,” Kei says and lights a cigarette. Tadashi next to him giggles and takes a sip from the bottle in his hand, coughing when the clear liquid burns his throat. Kei smirks, clicking the lighter in his hand – a small flame flickers in the darkness before Kei blows it out.  
  
”Careful,” Tadashi warns in an amused voice, handing the bottle to Kei. He takes the bottle but doesn't drink, the strong smell alone making him dizzy. Then, after a small silence, Tadashi speaks again. ”I would jump.”  
  
”I would slit my wrists in a bathtub full of water so I would drown after losing my consciousness,” Kei tells and finally takes a drink. He doesn't cough, but can't help closing his eyes and frowning in disgust when the alcohol's taste hits him. He hears Tadashi laughing next to him.  
  
”Dark,” the other boy comments and pries the bottle out of Kei's hand. Kei huffs out a small laugh and shrugs, trying to find more comfortable position against the cold wall behind them. He physically feels the smoke from his cigarette traveling all the way to his lungs, the taste of it on his tongue getting mixed with the alcohol and blacker, deeper smoke floating in the air.  
  
”It's getting dangerous,” he says but doesn't move a muscle to actually leave. Tadashi hums in the middle of taking a sip, the bottle making his voice echo weirdly. Kei wants to look, wants to see the alive flames reflecting from Tadashi's dark eyes and the small, pleased smile on his lips – but he can't move his gaze. The sight of a warehouse on fire on the other side of the street is too mesmerizing, the crackling sounds and almost burning heat getting him more drunk than the alcohol ever could.  
  
Kei clicks the lighter again.  
  
”Dad probably has someone over again,” Tadashi says, taking his phone out of his pocket and tapping the screen, lighting it up. ”Or he's passed out, it's late enough.”  
  
Kei nods and gets on his feet, throwing the cigarette on the ground next to an empty gasoline container. He offers his hand to Tadashi, who takes it with a smile and stands up. He doesn't comment on how there's a smoldering cigarette on the ground even though Kei knows he saw it and wants to say something about safety or how common accidental fires nowadays are.  
  
Kei raises an eyebrow when their eyes meet and Tadashi straight out laughs, squeezing the taller boy's hand. His other hand raises the bottle on his lips once more and Kei watches when he takes a drink, coughing again. Kei takes the bottle from him, gently and carefully, and without letting go of his hand starts walking away from the burning warehouse.  
  
Tadashi follows without a complaint (because _of course_ he does), and they change wide smiles when a fire truck speeds past them, sirens wailing loudly, dyeing the dark night red. They cross the street and climb over a rattling chain-link fence, Kei giving the bottle back to Tadashi after both of them are on the other side of the fence. They walk through the dim alleys hand in hand, taking so many turns one could say even they themselves had no idea where they were going.  
  
When they step on a bigger street after the labyrinth of small alleys Tadashi puts the now empty glass bottle on the ground next to a lamp-post, the piercing _cling_ of its bottom hitting the concrete ringing through the sleeping city. Tadashi clicks his tongue and Kei gives him a look, hurrying his steps without saying a word.  
  
(The look is something Kei never gives to someone else than Tadashi, and even if he did others wouldn't understand it – not like Tadashi does. It's worth more than hundreds of words, and it alone makes Tadashi walk faster and squeeze the taller boy's hand. Tadashi understands what Kei says even when there are no words, of course he does, and even though other people say it's creepy Kei knows it's the only thing that keeps him from filling the bathtub and sitting there until he no longer exists.)  
  
They hurry through the sleeping city, Tadashi giddy from the alcohol. Kei leads the way even though they aren't going to his place – he would know the way to Tadashi's even with his eyes closed, and the other boy doesn't mind walking half a step behind him. (To be honest, Kei wants Tadashi to lead the way. He wants to see Tadashi when they keep walking and guard his back, be there for him when he is forced to take a step back.)  
  
They reach the tall, looming apartment building that looks absolutely no different from the rest of the houses in the area. It's boring, its walls have cracks on them and their steps resound in the empty staircase. Tadashi unlocks the door to the apartment he shares with his father, the key turning in the lock so quietly even Kei has troubles hearing it – over the years Tadashi has mastered the talent of unlocking this particular door without making a single sound.  
  
There's a pair of dark red high-heels and an empty bottle of strong alcohol by the door that leads to Tadashi's father's bedroom. They stand still for a couple of seconds after stepping into the apartment, but it's quiet around them. Kei reaches for Tadashi's hand in the darkness and they almost run to the other end of the apartment, knowing from experience that nothing could wake the shorter boy's father after a night like he has had.  
  
They stumble in Tadashi's room and Kei doesn't let him even turn the lights on before kissing him. Kei knows the smile pressing against his mouth, has seen and felt it countless of times, the familiarity of it almost overwhelming. Kei treasures even the smallest sighs Tadashi makes when he runs his fingertips on the tanned skin, kisses the pulse point on his neck, thrusts into him and interlaces their fingers. Kei holds Tadashi so close they can hear each other's heartbeats and shivers when he feels his given name moaned into his mouth.  
  
Kei wants to say _'I love you'_ , but those words are forbidden and Tadashi will never be his; they're just partners in crime, each other's worst influence, and loving would only break the fine seams that still somehow keep them from shattering. The words burn in Kei's throat, their need to come out and be heard almost too great for him to tolerate, but he is _strong_ – has been strong for years. Kei keeps quiet when he carefully cards his fingers through Tadashi's hair, kisses the bruises on his ribs softly and gets both of them clean shirts from Tadashi's wardrobe even though Tadashi tells him it is actually his turn to get up this time.  
  
And when Tadashi curls up against Kei, both of them high from all the adrenaline and endorphins, Kei still doesn't say anything, just wraps his arms around the freckled boy and pulls him close enough to feel slow, hot breathing on his own neck.  
  
(Tadashi understands what Kei says even when there are no words, of course he does.)  
  
Kei doesn't cry until Tadashi's breathing has turned deep and steady and the fingers curled around the fabric of Kei's shirt have loosened up. Kei never lets Tadashi see him cry, not because he's afraid to cry in front of him; only because Tadashi is already carrying too much pain inside him.  
  
Kei's tears are quiet and they burn his eyes and skin when they roll down, leaving sore paths on his cheeks and neck. Kei doesn't even try to stop thm and he cries more when he remembers how Tadashi breathed in the black smoke earlier; how the number of bruises on Tadashi's body just increases and increases over the days; how Tadashi is the best actor Kei has ever seen and how that fact is _so_ unfair; how Tadashi's eyes sparkled when he said _'I would jump'_ ; how terrifying it is that they're casually talking about death at the age of sixteen.  
  
Kei doesn't fall asleep before the sun rises and his heart breaks into sharp pieces when Tadashi's father laughs in the other end of the apartment and the boy sharing the bed with Kei jolts awake, his eyes wide and breathing erratic, fingertips shaking when they grasp Kei's shirt.  
  
”The door's locked. I'm here” Kei says and Tadashi buries his face in Kei's chest, tears staining the fabric of the shirt, and Kei doesn't tell him everything will be alright because they both know it will never be alright.  
  
+++  
  
Kei is familiar with the look his mother throws at him when he closes the front door behind him. He knows the look is supposed to make him feel guilty, make him duck his head down in shame and force an apology out of his lips, but all it really does is make Kei annoyed and tired.  
  
”You have five minutes to change and be in the living room. And for the love of God, do something to your hair,” his mother says, her sharp eyes judging her youngest son's slightly messy appearance. ”We will talk when the party is over.” Kei only nods, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep poisonous words to himself if he opened his mouth, and makes his way upstairs.  
  
Kei's brother, already in a black suit, opens his mouth to say something when Kei passes him in the corridor but Kei scowls and his brother snaps his mouth shut.  
  
Kei doesn't hurry with changing his clothes despite his mother's words. He throws his hoodie on his unmade bed, the smell of smoke stuck in its fibers. He leaves the rest of his clothes scattered around the floor and pulls on his suit, the tight collars of his shirt choking him. He steps in front of the full-body mirror and runs his hand through his hair, forcing curls of blond flat against his head. He doesn't actually care how his hair looks but he isn't going to give his parents more things to nag about.  
  
Kei straightens his black tie and leaves his room with a sigh, already disgusted by the faked smiles and forced conversations about which private university he is going to attend after high school. He can already hear his mother's excited note she always uses when she gets a chance to brag about something, and Kei is just tired of all the pretending.  
  
” _What_ did you say?” Kei halts and takes a couple of steps back to hide behind the corner when he hears his father's hushed voice coming from his office, the usually tightly shut door now slightly ajar as his father probably hurried away from the party to take the call.  
  
”This is the third time in two months. Third! And you said the fire department couldn't save anything? That warehouse was an important one! How are we supposed to seal the upcoming deal if the facilities holding our products keep getting burned down?”  
  
Kei continues his way to the party and for the first time ever flashes a genuine smile to the co-founder of his father's billion dollar company.  
  
+  
  
_To: Tadashi  
[19:54] Dad's wheezing in rage.  
  
From: Tadashi  
[19:58] lmao serves him right  
  
_ +  
  
Kei pockets his phone with a grin after reading Tadashi's message and feels the glare his mother gives to him. Kei coughs and takes a sip of the fancy non-alcoholic drink he was given earlier, wishing he manages to figure out how to get something a little bit stronger to drink later – he knows the small headache bothering him is caused by the alcohol Tadashi had in the glass bottle last night, and he often heals his aches with numbing his body completely (a trick he learned from Tadashi, but Kei doesn't want to think about it because thinking about Tadashi and pain only makes him feel sick).  
  
”Is it rude to assume your studies are still going well, dear?” Kei hates nothing more than being called dear by someone whose name he doesn't even remember, and doesn't want to remember. He tilts his head and forces a polite smile on his lips, the expression on the lady's face brightening.  
  
”Kei's grades are the top of his glass”, his mother says and Kei has to dig his nails into his palms so his smile doesn't change into a disgusted frown.  
  
”But that's absolutely great! I suppose you're aiming for a top university then?” Kei is about to nod and confirm the lady's assumptions with some sugar-coated lies, but his mother's quick tongue beats him.  
  
”Of course Kei is. The city we're moving in has one of the best universities in America, and if Kei's grades–”  
  
”What?” Kei interrupts, not caring about keeping his façade up anymore. His mother blinks awkwardly and glances at him from the corner of her eye before faking a cheerful laugh and waving her hand to the lady on the other side of the table, making her laugh as well.  
  
”You know, darling, America. The country we're moving in next month, don't you remember? All that studying is getting the best of you, I see.”  
  
+++  
  
Tadashi's body hits the wall and he gasps for air, trying to get on his feet but failing. His head spins and the wall is slippery under his sweaty hands, too flat to offer him something to grasp on. He falls back on the floor, his knees taking the hit, and he mutters out a breathy curse.  
  
Tadashi's vision is narrow, and he more feels than sees the ominous presence walking across the room and stopping before him. Two strong hands take a hold of his shirt and forces him on his feet just to shove him against the wall again.  
  
”Please–” Tadashi's choked out word gets overpowered by the sound of glass breaking, and a single tear of pure fear slips on his cheek. He looks around for his phone in the dim room, its obnoxious buzzing against the floor driving both him and his father insane.  
  
”Shut the fuck up!” Another empty glass bottle gets chucked against the wall over Tadashi's head and he feels the shards raining on him. He tries to get on his feet again, knowing from experience that he can run faster than his drunk father if his legs would just stop shaking. He places his sweaty palms against the cold floor after swiping them on his ripped, booze-stained jeans, putting the leftovers of his energy into getting himself to stand up.  
  
A sharp shard of glass cuts Tadashi's right palm open but he doesn't notice because the pain of his father yanking him up by his hair is greater.  
  
”Is it your friend calling you? That tall, blond one? Huh?”  
  
”Let go of me!” Tadashi screams and tries to wrap his fingers around his father's wrist, the hold of his hair only getting more painful.  
  
”I know he was here last night. I _always_ know when he's here, I'm not stupid,” Tadashi's father says and pushes him against the wall. ”You two have something going on?”  
  
”Please let me go,” Tadashi begs and sobs when the hand holding his hair pulls, bashing his head against the wall.  
  
”Because I happen to have ears, and I can't be wrong if I assume this wasn't the first time you let that guy fuck you,” his father shouts and with a violent move throws him on the floor. ”I should've known an accident like you can only become a fag.”  
  
”We aren't– He isn't– You're wrong, there's nothing–”  
  
”Didn't I tell you to shut the fuck up?” Tadashi knows the kick hitting his ribs is going to leave dark bruises but isn't enough to break anything – the alcohol running in his father's veins is too strong to let him use his muscles like he wants to. He stands there, trying to find his balance, and Tadashi crawls on the floor, the need to escape before the next kick comes burning in his every cell.  
  
Tadashi sees his phone In the corner of the room, now mute with a dark screen. He manages to get on his feet, his whole body trembling in fear and exhaustion, and grabs the device. He barely has the time to stuff it into the back pocket of his jeans when strong fingers wrap around the back of his shirt. Tadashi screams in surprise, and even though his steps backwards are shaky his legs don't give up under him.  
  
Tadashi yanks his body forward, hoping and praying and _pleading_ it's enough for the man to let go of him. Tadashi's father is a big, strong man even when drunk, and Tadashi knows from experience that when disgust and hatred are added to that equation, the outcome isn't a beautiful one.  
  
The fabric of his shirt slips through his father's fingers and Tadashi runs, not even thinking of looking back or stopping no matter how loud the voice telling him to is. Tadashi slams the door of his room shut behind himself and locks it with a shift movement, his heart stammering against his chest even though he has done this so, so many times.  
  
Tadashi leans his back against the door, takes his phone out of his pocket and sits down on the floor. He hears his father's loud cursing from the other end of the apartment, the rustle of glass disgusting under his heavy feet when he walks to the kitchen. Tadashi breaths in and out, in and out, and realizes the screen of his phone is covered in blood.  
  
Tadashi does nothing to the cut on his palm, and swipes the screen with a towel that's laying on the floor. The device remains dirty, the edges of it dyed in red, but Tadashi doesn't actually care. He taps the screen a couple of times, thanking the heavens the phone still works, and raises it on his ear.  
  
”Sorry, I didn't hear when you called–”  
  
”They're relocating the company to America, and we're moving with it.”  
  
Tadashi crumbles like the shattered bottles of glass under his father's feet.  
  
+++  
  
”What happened to your hand?”  
  
”I got a cut.”  
  
”How?”  
  
”Cooking,” Tadashi says and picks Kei's red lighter up from the floor. He spins it between his fingers and breaths in the smoke of Kei's cigarette, the blond's brows furrowing in suspicion. He takes a drag and then hands the cigarette to Tadashi who takes it, placing it between his lips, his eyes studying the dirty floor he sits on.  
  
The light coming in is gray because the windows haven't been washed in years, and around them the bathroom is quiet and empty since the afternoon classes started 10 minutes ago.  
  
”Stand up.”  
  
”What?”  
  
”Stand up,” Kei repeats and crosses his arms, trying to keep his face expressionless. Tadashi looks perplexed, his brows scrunched and fingers delicate around the cigarette. Kei stares down at him, without saying a word, and after a long, silent moment Tadashi sighs and gets on his feet.  
  
The cigarette drops on the floor when Kei pushes Tadashi against the wall and traps him between it and his own, taller body. He starts unbuttoning the white shirt of Tadashi's school uniform, the sharp eyes behind his glasses following the movements of his fingers. He keeps going on even when Tadashi takes a hold of his wrists and tries to pry his hands away.  
  
”Kei, what the fuck–?” There's panic and fear in Tadashi's voice, and the hurt, scared tone makes Kei feel worse than the bruises and cuts he reveals from underneath the shirt.  
  
”When did this happen?”  
  
”They're old,” Tadashi says, not sounding convincing at all, still weakly attempting to get Kei let go of his shirt.  
  
”No they aren't.”  
  
”They are.”  
  
”Most of these weren't on you two nights ago. I _counted_.” Tadashi sighs, heavy and tired, and Kei lets go of the hem of Tadashi's shirt. Tadashi doesn't say anything, only starts buttoning his shirt up, covering the dark-purple bruises and angry-red cuts. Kei stares at the second button from the top on Tadashi's shirt and bites the inside of his cheek, a sick feeling swirling inside him getting more and more powerful.  
  
”I forgot to tell you. I'm more worried about the America thing,” Tadashi whispers, a light brush of his fingertips against the inside of Kei's wrist. The blond looks up, catches his friend's gaze, knowing and feeling there are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.  
  
”You need to report him.”  
  
”It's alright. It doesn't hurt.”  
  
”Don't lie.”  
  
”I deserve it.”  
  
”Fuck, no, Tadashi.” Kei pulls the other boy closer, hides his face in the dark brown hair and cries. The weight of Tadashi's arms wrapping around his waist is comforting and painful at the same time, and their helpless sobs bounce back from the filthy walls of the bathroom.  
  
+  
  
It's not even noon when they leave the school grounds, a new cigarette between Tadashi's fingers and Kei's eyes red from crying. Kei leads and Tadashi follows (as always), but the shorter boy stops when instead of turning left after the second street lights Kei keeps walking forward. The blond says nothing, only walks back to Tadashi, takes his hand and silently asks him to follow.  
  
(And Tadashi follows, _of course_ he does.)  
  
Kei's bedroom is a mess even though he is usually a very neat person. Tadashi stands in the doorway, his eyes scanning the floor covered in cardboard boxes and endless piles of books and CDs. He looks emotionless, like an empty body with no soul, wrinkles on the hem of his shirt he hasn't tucked into his pants although the school's dress code requires it.  
  
”Sit on the bed,” Kei says, his voice small and hoarse.  
  
”I shouldn't be here.”  
  
”We're moving anyway, it doesn't matter.” Tadashi sits on the bed and runs his hands over the bedding, straightening the creases. Kei sits next to him and takes his injured hand, carefully removing the sloppily made bandage. He disinfects the deep cut on Tadashi's palm, blood dyeing the towel red, and patches him up. Tadashi doesn't say anything, doesn't whine or cry even when it's supposed to hurt, only rests his head on Kei's shoulder when he's done with his first aid.  
  
Kei runs his fingers through the messy hair and feels Tadashi's content sigh on his skin. He tries not to think how this is Tadashi's second and last time in Kei's room; how deep in trouble both of them would be if someone happened to come home early and see them, because apparently it's not healthy for Kei to be around people who vandalize other's property; how Tadashi must be in a terrible pain.  
  
(Tadashi is the best actor Kei has ever seen and that fact is _so_ unfair.)  
  
Kei wants to say _'I love you'_ when there's a soft kiss on his neck, the lips quickly changing into biting teeth and sharp nails that leave marks on his back. He replaces the words to whispers of Tadashi's name and writes them over the countless clusters of bruises on the other boy's skin with his tongue, gently and caring, just like the touches on the back of Kei's neck when he starts crying in the middle of a kiss.  
  
Kei knows that Tadashi knows, and they both know saying it out loud would only break them into something they would never be able to fix.  
  
+++  
  
The evening Kei leaves is a gray, rainy one, and he does his everything to slow everyone down so they would miss their flight. To no one's surprise he fails, only making his stressed out father even more stressed out (that does, however, give some kind of twisted satisfaction to him). He closes the door of the big house behind his back and sighs, knowing their new house in America is even bigger, even more luxurious.  
  
Kei knows he will hate their house in America even more than he hates their old one.  
  
Kei is about to get in the car that will drive them to the airport when Tadashi runs around the corner, bloodstains on his jeans and the right sleeve of his black hoodie ripped. Kei slams the car door shut and hurries to his friend despite his parents' angry shouts ordering him to come back. When Kei reaches Tadashi he smiles to the blond, dried up blood on his cheek, completely out of breath from running.  
  
”I was sure I would be late,” Tadashi says, panting, and Kei sees a faint bruise underneath his left eye.  
  
”What happened to you?”  
  
”A long, long day.” Tadashi's smile is a sad, forced one and Kei is careful when he presses his lips against it. He knows his parents and brother are watching, and that he shouldn't be doing this when he's about to move out of the country, and when Tadashi pulls away with tears staining his face Kei realizes he has never been as scared (scared of leaving, losing and forgetting) as he is on that moment.  
  
”I'll come back as soon as I can. I promise.”  
  
”Don't,” Tadashi laughs through tears. ”Don't come back to this shithole. Do yourself a favor and _live_ , Kei. Go and get the world, it's waiting for you. Has been waiting for you this whole time. Conquer it.”  
  
Tadashi pushes Kei away, gently with an ultimate caution, and watches when he walks back to his family, gets in the car and leaves after promising he would call when the plane lands. As the car's tail lights disappear in the darkening evening Tadashi takes his phone out of his pocket, turns it off, and walks away with his hands in the pockets of his worn-out hoodie.  
  
The city around Tadashi is dim and silent, deformed shadows created by yellow and orange streetlights following him when he passes the old convenience store, the ramshackle bus station and turns right after the lousy, filthy bar. He climbs over a chain-link fence on the bar's backyard and lights a cigarette with a red lighter.  
  
(Kei doesn't notice his lighter is missing until he steps out of the car on the airport, realizing on that same moment that some people just never change.)  
  
Tadashi walks through the poor neighborhood that serves as a quick detour to the main street, his eyes blind and ears deaf to everything around him. He crosses the usually busy street without looking left or right, knowing the afternoon rush is already over. He leans against the cold metal railing of the huge bridge built over the river with a violent stream and drops his cigarette down, watching how the waves catch it with ease.  
  
Tadashi throws the hood of his shirt over his head and gets on the railing, sits on it and squeezes the cold metal with white knuckles. He can smell the water rushing under him, can almost feel the coldness and power fill his lungs, and when Tadashi closes his eyes he hears a scream – and then he falls.  
  
He doesn't fall on his feet, the yank pulling him backwards strong enough to send him and the person whose arms are wrapped around his waist on the hard ground.  
  
”What the actual fu–?”  
  
”Dude, what the fuck are you doing?” Tadashi doesn't recognize the voice, and when he looks up to the man he isn't met with a familiar face. He frowns and gets quickly on his feet, struggling to get away from the other person's grip.  
  
”It's not your business,” Tadashi mutters, scowling. The man (boy? In the end he doesn't look _that_ old to Tadashi) gets up as well, dusting his clothes, his eyes not leaving Tadashi.  
  
”Easy, okay? Are you hurt?”  
  
”I'm fine.”  
  
”You just almost killed yourself so I have all the rights not to believe you,” the man says, the tone of his voice making Tadashi feel nauseous. He puts his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and physically feels how his heart freezes and sends cold blood all around his body – his phone isn't in the pocket.  
  
”My phone,” Tadashi breaths out, frantically looking around. He searches through the pockets on his hoodie and jeans, turns around to check the ground where he and the stranger fell on, and takes two steps towards the bridge to see could he possibly catch a glimpse of the phone if it had dropped in the water, but fingers wrap around his wrist to stop him.  
  
”Don't even think about it.”  
  
”My phone!” Tadashi screams, now in panic, his heart beating so loudly it's the only thing he hears. He squirms in the man's hold, yells at him and there's tears on his face before he even realizes he is crying.  
  
”Hey, hey, hey. It's here, on the ground. Here, look.” The man drags him further away from the bridge and picks the device up – it had probably flown out of Tadashi's pocket when he got heroically saved. Tadashi takes the phone, sobbing helplessly with tears blurring his vision, and turns the device on. He's greeted with a bright screen that asks him to enter his passcode.  
  
”I– He promised to call, and I– I can't miss it, I can't miss him–”  
  
”It's alright. Come here, okay? It's alright.” Tadashi lets the stranger wrap his strong arms around him once more and buries his face into the soft fabric of the man's shirt, tears burning his eyes. He clutches his bloodstained phone against his chest and wails, his whole body shaking from the power of his bad thoughts.  
  
(Tadashi doesn't go home after he runs out of tears, and when Kei finally calls Tadashi lies on a bed that's not his own, and with tears running down on his face tells his best friend about a savior in a soft shirt.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> :') I'm nervous.
> 
> [tumblr](http://sleepyams.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/vilmahenriika)


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